I looked at his cold, calculating eyes.

If I played my hand now, it would be a messy brawl. I didn’t want a brawl. I wanted it done right, and on the record.

I let go of the deed. I forced my shoulders to slump. I let the tears I’d been holding spill over.

I let my voice tremble, playing the exact role of the broken housewife he expected.

“Please, Daniel,” I whispered, my voice breaking on cue. “Where am I supposed to go?”

He scoffed and adjusted his cuffs. “That’s not my problem anymore, Emily. There’s a motel out on Route 9. I suggest you start walking.”